Nana's Chicken Noodle Soup
If snow day calls for time indoors, January in sunny climes presents the opportunity to connect with the healthy living that is a core value of life in the Golden State. Not that we want for snow in Southern California. Within driving distance from LA are the mountain lodges of Big Bear, anchoring one of the small towns that form the mosaic of LA living. Most Southern Californians will tell you that the diversity that draws us here is not just that of culture but of experience – on our own wheels, we can go from high desert to high rise, from ski slopes to water skis, from the sleek curves of the Pacific Coast Highway to the street tangle of DTLA.
And we can’t really say we don’t have winter. It isn’t the winter of snow plows and bundled layers, but it does get chilly at night. Well, chilly by comparison. One of the running jokes defectors from winter lands share is how thin our skins get once we settle in SoCal. I personally have marveled that, having spent 25 years on above ground subway platforms in January, I reach for my jacket when the mercury dips down to sixty.
Still, I have pleasant memories of snow. Moving from the Ozarks to the Pennsylvania hills in anticipation of going to college, I left behind the rarity of snowfall for its centrality as a fact of life to be planned for. Williamsport winters were as real as the fireplaces and stoves we gathered around. I weathered my first blizzard in Pennsylvania, and during them I learned the very definition of cozy. Winter folk plan ahead with a stocked pantry, so as we played cards at Nana's kitchen table, the picture window looking onto snow-filled skies over the icy shadows of the Susquehanna river, a pot of chicken soup cooked at a long slow simmer on the stovetop. There was hot coffee all day long from a silver percolater, and, towards eventide, a discreet bottle of brandy appeared. It was peaceful yet gently abustle, provided for with the caring of watchfulness filled with study and play.
Chicken soup seems an almost universal response to winter woes. It comes out of Jewish kitchens as thin clear broth substantiated by a matzoh ball and out of Eastern European kitchens rich with mushrooms and dumplings. Cuban chicken soup is envlivened with lime and cilantro, while the French interpretation is enriched with sweet Vermouth and fennel. At the deli they ladle an oily, hot broth into a blue to-go cup for workers cleaning up after the blizzard, while up the street at the diner, a ceramic bowl of avgolimono is plunked onto the counter with a saucer of lemon wedges. We make a few chicken soups in our urban home, some of them printed as recipes on this blog. Here is the first of two more, a memory from Nana's Pennsylvania kitchen, rich from slow cooking, hearty with egg noodles, crowned with fragrant dill. Serve it with bread and butter, and be prepared to be asked for seconds. It is the perfect recipe for snow day, sick day, or any day you want to partake of the curative coziness of a bowl of chicken soup.
Nana's Chicken Noodle Soup
Have the butcher cut a medium-sized hen into pieces for soup, no wings or backs.
1 medium-sized hen, prepped by the butcher as above
2 yellow onions
4 medium carrots, peeled and cut into coins
4 ribs celery, heads and calloused ends removed, cut into U-shaped pieces
4 cloves garlic, peeled and pithed
2 sprigs thyme
2 dried bay leaves
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
½ teaspoon whole cloves (about 3 or 4)
2 teaspoons salt
1 bunch fresh dill
unsalted butter
1 12 ounce package extra-wide egg noodles
Cook the chicken / Make the stock
Early in the day
And we can’t really say we don’t have winter. It isn’t the winter of snow plows and bundled layers, but it does get chilly at night. Well, chilly by comparison. One of the running jokes defectors from winter lands share is how thin our skins get once we settle in SoCal. I personally have marveled that, having spent 25 years on above ground subway platforms in January, I reach for my jacket when the mercury dips down to sixty.
Still, I have pleasant memories of snow. Moving from the Ozarks to the Pennsylvania hills in anticipation of going to college, I left behind the rarity of snowfall for its centrality as a fact of life to be planned for. Williamsport winters were as real as the fireplaces and stoves we gathered around. I weathered my first blizzard in Pennsylvania, and during them I learned the very definition of cozy. Winter folk plan ahead with a stocked pantry, so as we played cards at Nana's kitchen table, the picture window looking onto snow-filled skies over the icy shadows of the Susquehanna river, a pot of chicken soup cooked at a long slow simmer on the stovetop. There was hot coffee all day long from a silver percolater, and, towards eventide, a discreet bottle of brandy appeared. It was peaceful yet gently abustle, provided for with the caring of watchfulness filled with study and play.
Chicken soup seems an almost universal response to winter woes. It comes out of Jewish kitchens as thin clear broth substantiated by a matzoh ball and out of Eastern European kitchens rich with mushrooms and dumplings. Cuban chicken soup is envlivened with lime and cilantro, while the French interpretation is enriched with sweet Vermouth and fennel. At the deli they ladle an oily, hot broth into a blue to-go cup for workers cleaning up after the blizzard, while up the street at the diner, a ceramic bowl of avgolimono is plunked onto the counter with a saucer of lemon wedges. We make a few chicken soups in our urban home, some of them printed as recipes on this blog. Here is the first of two more, a memory from Nana's Pennsylvania kitchen, rich from slow cooking, hearty with egg noodles, crowned with fragrant dill. Serve it with bread and butter, and be prepared to be asked for seconds. It is the perfect recipe for snow day, sick day, or any day you want to partake of the curative coziness of a bowl of chicken soup.
Nana's Chicken Noodle Soup
Have the butcher cut a medium-sized hen into pieces for soup, no wings or backs.
1 medium-sized hen, prepped by the butcher as above
2 yellow onions
4 medium carrots, peeled and cut into coins
4 ribs celery, heads and calloused ends removed, cut into U-shaped pieces
4 cloves garlic, peeled and pithed
2 sprigs thyme
2 dried bay leaves
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
½ teaspoon whole cloves (about 3 or 4)
2 teaspoons salt
1 bunch fresh dill
unsalted butter
1 12 ounce package extra-wide egg noodles
Cook the chicken / Make the stock
Early in the day
- Place the chicken pieces in a large stock pot or Dutch oven.
- Measure the peppercorns, cloves, and 1 teaspoon salt into the pot. Place the bay leaves, garlic, and thyme into the pot.
- Peel and core one of the onions. Coarsely chop the onion into slices. Place the peeled, chopped onion into the pot.
- Gently cover the chicken mixture with cold water to cover by 2 inches.
- Place the lid on the pot.
- Cook on low, checking occasionally to replenish the water to maintain the fill line, until the chicken is thoroughly cooked as a thin, very fragrant broth appears, approximately 5 hours.
- Once the chicken is thoroughly cooked, turn off the burner and let the chicken and broth sit on the burner, covered, for 1 hour.
Shred the chicken / Strain the stock
After chicken is cooked and cooled
- Once the chicken is cool enough to touch, safely and carefully use a large slotted spoon to transfer the chicken pieces to a large bowl. The chicken may start to fall apart as you work; that is okay. Your goal is to get the chicken bones, skin, and meat into the bowl; it doesn't have to be pretty. Cover the bowl containing the chicken with plastic wrap.
- Once you have transferred the chicken from the pot, safely and carefully pour the stock through a sieve or colander set over a bowl large enough to contain the stock. Working slowly and carefully, you should be able to pour the liquid without it splashing. Once you have poured all of the stock into the bowl, use the back of the spoon to press the solids in the sieve over the bowl containing the stock to release any juices into the stock.
- Use a paper towel to remove any solids that remain in the pot. Discard the solids collected from the broth both in the paper towel and in the sieve. Cover the bowl containing the now clear broth with plastic wrap.
- Place the now-empty pot back on the stovetop.
Make the soup base
- Two hours before serving
- Peel and core the remaining onion. Cut the onion into dice.
- Place a pat of butter into the large stock pot or Dutch oven. Melt the butter over medium-low heat until foamy.
- Add the onion, carrot, and celery to the pan. Sprinkle the vegetables lightly with salt.
- Saute the vegetables until they begin to soften, approximately 5 minutes.
- Turn the burner under the pot to low.
- Working slowly and carefully, pour the strained stock back into the pot.
- Measure the salt into the pot.
- Cover the pot and cook the liquid and vegetables while you prepare the chicken.
Prepare the chicken
- While the base is cooking
- Once the chicken is cool enough to touch, remove the meat from each piece as follows:
- Use tongs to place a piece on a clean cutting board with a reservoir
- Use the tongs to remove the skin and set the skin aside.
- Use the tongs or two forks to remove the meat in shreds. Place the shredded chicken meat into a bowl as you go, placing bones and cartilage in a scraps bowl. Take care not to include any bones or cartilage.
- Working this way, should be able to shred just the meat (no bones or cartilage) into the bowl.
Cook the noodles
- 15 minutes before serving
- Open the package containing the noodles and pour the noodles into the pot containing the vegetables and stock. Stir the noodles to separate them.
- If the pot is running low, add additional chicken stock.
- Cover the pot and cook the noodles until done, approximately 12 minutes.
Serve the soup
- For each bowl, place a pat of butter in the bowl.
- Carefully ladle stock, vegetables, and noodles into the bowl to fill the bowl about 2/3rds.
- Place a handful of shredded chicken into the bowl.
- Garnish the soup with a few snips of fresh dill.
- Serve immediately.
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